by Chris McNab
Alone, again, in a high moment of white resolve I pledged to KEEP THE FAITH and always to wear a red poppy of Flanders Fields as a sign of remembrance and the emblem of ‘keeping the faith with all who died’.
In hectic times as were those times, great emotional impacts may be obliterated by succeeding greater ones. So I felt impelled to make note of my pledge. I reached for a used yellow envelope, turned the blank side up and hastily scribbled my pledge to keep the faith with all who died.
Moina Michael, The Miracle Flower: The Story of the Flanders Fields Memorial Poppy, 1941
In this vivid moment, Michael crystallised the idea for the Remembrance Poppy. (McCrae himself was no longer alive by this time – he had died of pneumonia on 28 January 1918.) She quickly went out and acquired all the artificial red poppies she could find in the Wanamaker’s department store, and began to sell them. It was the beginning of a concerted campaign to make the poppy a national commemorative symbol. Her vision was for a single national motif, albeit one that could be reproduced in various different forms, to act as a reminder of all those lost in the war. In December 1918 she worked with a designer, Lee Keedick, who helped her produce a final motif. It featured a poppy, coloured with all the hues of the Allied flags, intertwined with a Torch of Liberty. With this design in hand, Michael strode on tirelessly, pushing for national adoption, but two years of effort did not seem to advance her cause significantly.
Then came a breakthrough. In August 1920, Michael convinced the Georgia Department of the American Legion (a US veterans’ organisation) to adopt the Memorial Poppy as its symbol, albeit without the Torch of Liberty motif. This in turn, at the National American Legion convention in Cleveland on 29 September 1920, led to the Memorial Poppy being adopted as a country-wide symbol of remembrance, with the idea that American Legion members and supportive members of the public would wear the poppy annually on Armistice Day, 11 November. Michael had achieved her goal, but now the Memorial Poppy was about to spread internationally.
‘WE SHALL KEEP THE FAITH’
Moina Michael wrote ‘We Shall Keep the Faith’ in response to her reading of McCrae’s ‘We Shall Not Sleep’/‘In Flanders Fields’:
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet – to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We’ll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.
In Flanders Fields we fought.
Moina Michael
FURTHER AFIELD
A key person present at the National American Legion convention in 1920 was a member of the French YWCA, Madame Anna E. Guérin. Like Michael, she found the vision of the Memorial Poppy one that could not be ignored. In particular, she saw possibilities for the sale of large numbers of artificial poppies in her home country, the proceeds going towards helping those who were still suffering from the after-effects of war, particularly orphaned children. Once back in France, she straight away set about producing the fabric poppies for sale. But her ambitions were actually international, and she also began travelling to other countries, or sent representatives, to drive the concept of the Memorial Poppy.
PLACES IN WHICH BRITAIN HAS FOUGHT WARS SINCE 1945
WHAT THE POPPY MEANS
Mike Wilson, Director of Operations, County Durham Emergency Medical Services:
I have always worn my poppy with pride, as a symbol of remembrance for those that have made the ultimate sacrifice, our fallen. This symbol has now become even more poignant following the death of my identical twin brother, Lance Corporal David Wilson, in Iraq in 2008. In the following years The Royal British Legion helped and supported our family through tough times, assisting us through David’s inquest in February this year. The Poppy Appeal is not only a way of remembering our fallen, but it is also a vital way in which we can all support the important work of The Royal British Legion. So let’s all wear our poppy with pride and remember.
(The Royal British Legion, 2014)
In 1921 alone, Guérin travelled to Australia, Canada, New Zealand and Britain, and the audiences there proved more than open to the idea of the Memorial Poppy. In the same year that millions of poppies were sold across the United States, the Great War Veterans Association of Canada also adopted the poppy as its national emblem of remembrance, on 5 July 1921. The next stop on Guérin’s itinerary was Great Britain, and she sought to meet with none other than Field Marshal Douglas Haig.
Haig is now a rather ambiguous figure in relation to the First World War, blamed by many for directly elevating the numbers of British and Empire casualties during the First World War. Yet his role in the support of post-war veterans was crucial. He was genuinely appalled at the financial hardship experienced by many veterans back on the streets of Britain, so Guérin’s approaches found a receptive ear. Haig was also the president of The British Legion, founded in 1921 through the fusion of four organisations: the Comrades of the Great War, the National Association of Discharged Sailors and Soldiers, the National Federation of Discharged and Demobilized Sailors and Soldiers, and the Officers’ Association.
The idea of a Remembrance Poppy, sold as a way to generate funds for veterans, was quickly embraced by Haig with the support of The British Legion. To handle the proceeds of the sales, Haig established the Earl Haig Fund, which also included the Earl Haig Fund Scotland. The Poppy Factory, manned by five disabled veterans, was founded in 1922 in Old Kent Road, South London. This factory quickly proved too small for the purpose, and in 1926 the production line moved to the disused Lansdown Brewery in Petersham Road, Richmond, with workforce housing built opposite. That same year, Countess Dorothy Haig, Earl Haig’s wife, founded a similar Poppy Factory in Edinburgh. (The role of the Haig Fund is the reason that for many years the black plastic button in the centre of the Remembrance Poppy bore the words ‘Haig Fund’.)
The first British Legion Poppy Day appeal began in the autumn of 1921, with hundreds of thousands of French-made poppies (for this year) selling across the country. But Britain’s imperial connections and the ceaseless energies of Madame Guérin meant that the Remembrance Poppy soon spread further afield – Australia also launched its first poppy appeal in 1921, with the official recognition that the poppy would be worn every year on 11 November. New Zealand followed suit in 1922. In the space of four years, and largely on account of the vision of two women – one American and one French – the United States, Canada, Britain, France, Australia and New Zealand had adopted what we now call the Remembrance Poppy, establishing national traditions that survive to this day.
THE MODERN POPPY
One of the striking things about the Remembrance Poppy is its durability. Founded in the emotional aftermath of a world war, it could have gradually withered on the vine as time marched on and interest waned. Obviously, the fact that the First World War was followed just over two decades later by an even larger world war kept the idea of remembrance utterly relevant, as did Britain’s numerous post-war conflicts. There have been changes, particularly in terms of the poppy’s administration. For example, soon after the launch of the Poppy Appeal in the UK, The British Legion took over responsibility from the Officers’ Association for running the annual campaign, while in Scotland the Officers’ Association Scotland ran its own appeal independently. Then in 1954, the Earl Haig Fund Scotland was established as a stand-alone charity, albeit renamed in 2006 as the Poppy Appeal Scotland. Meanwhile The British Legion received a
royal charter in 1971, to become The Royal British Legion. In 2011, the Poppy Appeal Scotland merged with The Royal British Legion, although it continues to operate as a separate charity.
And what of the Remembrance Poppy itself? Richmond and Edinburgh remain the poppy’s centres of production. The Richmond factory alone produces 34–45 million poppies each year, the whole operation run primarily by a dedicated team of veterans. The poppy is manufactured in a wide range of formats, so alongside the traditional paper and plastic version sit silk poppies, metallic pins, complete wreaths, wooden crosses, crescents, stars and Khandas, and shopping bags. Sold by thousands of volunteers across the country every year, the poppies raise millions of pounds for the causes of veterans and their families. (More about veteran support is described in Chapter 5.) The contribution of this simple item to the welfare of thousands of deserving people is therefore inestimable.
But apart from the vital fundraising performed by the Poppy Appeal every year, it has a deeper purpose. Although it was born from the bitter aftermath of a world war, the poppy has largely avoided becoming just a symbol of British, Commonwealth or American commemoration. It is not jingoistic or threatening (a danger of any national symbol), but instead compels entire nations to stop and reflect upon the human cost of war, both to themselves and to their former enemies. War is a complex and harrowing issue, and one that resists moral, political or philosophical simplicities. Nor must we try to gloss over what it is that soldiers are compelled to do in war. Violence is always a terrible act, whether it is dressed up in uniform or not. Many soldiers are afflicted with the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) precisely because the things they were obliged to perform don’t square easily with their fundamental humanity. The Remembrance Poppy does not attempt to glorify or romanticise conflict, but instead, at least once a year, obliges us to face and think about the consequences of war, past, present and future.
WHAT THE POPPY MEANS
Sarah Barton, Volunteer,
The Royal British Legion:
I wear my poppy with pride. Volunteering for The Royal British Legion is a fantastic and worthwhile experience and something that I truly believe in. I have now been a volunteer for over two years. My granddad joined the 44 Royal Marine Commandos in 1943 and I remember the stories he used to tell me as a child of his experiences serving in Burma. He was a member of The Royal British Legion and Burma Star Association until his death in 2005. When leaving the Armed Forces, ex-Servicemen and Women are faced with many issues such as isolation, unemployment, poverty, homelessness, low self-esteem, mental health issues etc. and it is important to have a charity such as The Royal British Legion to support them in overcoming these issues. This is why it is crucial to have the Poppy Appeal because without this they would not be able to get the full support they need in order to build a better future for themselves.
(The Royal British Legion, 2014)
3. NOT FORGOTTEN
WALK AROUND THE centre of any village or town in Britain and you are almost guaranteed to come across a war memorial. They range from the humble – small, now-faded metal plaques bolted to the walls of civic buildings – to majestic cenotaphs and statues, towering memorials to the war dead of generations past. We have become familiar with such features, hastening past them while our daily lives consume our attention. Yet should we stop, just for a moment, and reflect upon what they represent both historically and personally, then it becomes clear that they are extraordinary cultural landmarks.
Take, for example, the war memorial that adorns just one, very particular, location – Woking Post Office. A simple marble plaque on a wall explains that it is ‘Erected to the Memory of Officers of Woking Post Office who gave their lives in the Great War’. It then goes on to list the names and formations of the dead:
Allen W.G. – Grenadier Guards
Bruce V.E. – Leading Seaman RFR
Coles C.T. – PO Rifles
Goldsmith F.C. – East Kent Regt
Keene T.G. – RE Sigs
Orr D.W. – PO Rifles
Riddiford W.B. – PO Rifles
Urquhart I. – MT RFA
Warner W.J. – RGA
Wise A.J. – Tank Corps
Reflection reveals what an extraordinary historical statement is made by this memorial. A single place of work – a post office in the borough of Woking – lost no fewer than ten of its workers in the years 1914-18. The total staff of the post office would have been unlikely to number more than a few dozen, so their deaths would have sent emotional trauma rippling through the building with every new War Office telegram that arrived. Beyond the walls of the post office, each death would then punch a hole through the lives of wives, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters; people for whom these names represented humans at the centre of their lives. The war memorial is not just a list of names; it is a testimony to grief on a huge scale.
Of course, that scale gets even bigger depending on the memorial you visit. In terms of the First World War, the human loss is conveyed with almost vertiginous effect by the cemeteries and memorials of Belgium and France. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) tends, with laudable diligence, to such sites across the world, but even their neatness and peace cannot mask the horror of what they represent. For example, the Tyne Cot cemetery in Belgian Flanders is today the largest Commonwealth cemetery in the world. It contains, in serried, silent ranks, the graves of 11,956 Commonwealth servicemen, 8,369 of them unidentified. To compound the power of this sight, the Tyne Cot Memorial to the Missing then adds the names of a further 35,000 officers and men whose bodies were not recovered. In nearby Ypres also stands the majestic Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing; its cavernous Hall of Memory features dozens of stone panels, on which are carved the names of 54,896 Commonwealth soldiers who died in Flanders. So, in total, these two locations remember more than 100,000 war dead, the deaths incurred in one particular sector of the Western Front in four years of terrible bloodshed.
It is a truism that deaths numbering in the tens of thousands can often have less emotional impact than the death of a single person. And yet, each name given on a wall, each grave tended, does indeed connect to a real person, an individual who once had a beating heart and breathing lungs, and who wondered whether he would reach the end of the day alive.
THE INSTINCT TO REMEMBER
Memorials to wars have always been with us, but their nature has changed profoundly over time. Back in antiquity, we find numerous monumental works celebrating victories (rather fewer remembering defeats), often sculpted or cast to glorify the exploits of a campaigning empire. Imperial Rome was replete with them, and some still stand defiantly today in that city – Trajan’s Column is the most well-known, consisting of 32 tons of marble standing 98ft (30m) high, around which winds 623ft (190m) of frieze depicting scenes of war between the Romans and the Dacians (CE 101–102 and CE 105–106). Trajan’s Column went on to inspire dozens of victory columns around the world, but the other popular format for war memorials was the triumphal arch. Triumphal arches not only provided plenty of space for patriotic verses, they also created an avenue through which a victorious army could march in full view of the gathered masses – they were the ultimate public relations monument. Once again, Rome proliferates with such arches, typically labelled with the name of the emperor who secured the victory; great examples include the Arch of Titus and the Arch of Constantine. Another classical way of remembering a war, or at least a victory, was simply to carve an overbearing statue of the relevant ruler or commander, and stand it portentously in a public place. During the fifth century BCE and subsequently, for example, Athens would have had more than its fair share of statues of Pericles, who led Athens during the first two years of the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BCE).
COMMONWEALTH WAR GRAVES COMMISSION – GRAVES AND MEMORIALS ATTENDED (BRITAIN AND COMMONWEALTH)
One notable aspect of these early monuments is that the focus is very much on State and imperial power, or the acts of the great comm
anders. The efforts and sacrifices of the humble soldier, although depicted in battle images, are largely subjugated under the greater theme of national duty. This trend continues in war memorials right up to the nineteenth century. Throughout the medieval period, wars and victories have been remembered through imposing and rather alienating statuary and monuments, such as the neoclassical Arc de Triomphe in Paris, on which are listed French victories in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars plus the names of 660 significant individuals (mostly generals) who died during the same period. In Britain (as throughout Europe), city centres are often graced with the figures of commanders on horseback or in suitable martial stance (such as Nelson’s Column) in London, and cathedrals frequently bear marble victory plaques or proudly display tattered regimental colours retrieved from the battlefield.
During the nineteenth and early twentieth century, we see the first hints of battle memorials becoming increasingly focused on the sacrifices of the rank and file. In Europe and the United States, more regimental and unit memorials were built after conflicts such as the American Civil War, Franco-Prussian War and Boer War. For example, a large memorial column was erected on Coombe Hill, near Wendover in the UK, in 1904. It was expressly focused on remembering the war dead of Buckinghamshire in the Boer War, listing their names solemnly on a memorial plaque.
It was the First World War that truly galvanised the spread of more personalised war memorials in the UK. Most of these memorials were erected after the conflict, from 1918 to about 1932. During this period, the British people were still trying to come to grips with the scale of the human loss that had befallen the nation. Furthermore, repatriation of the dead was not a standard practice during the conflict; most of the dead were buried where they fell or in improvised cemeteries near the frontline, and were later (when possible, bearing in mind the thousands of men who remained missing) disinterred and moved to concentrated war cemeteries. For millions of people back in Britain, what this meant was that they had no grave to visit. Therefore public memorials were the only tangible way to create a visible focus for their grief, and to bring the dead back into the community.